


Just a Herbologist

by thesometimeswarrior



Series: Hold the Fort: Pictures of Hogwarts During the Year of the Carrows [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Hogwarts Seventh Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 02:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4902244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesometimeswarrior/pseuds/thesometimeswarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It wasn’t he who went on an epic journey through the forests of Britain, wasn’t he who robbed Gringots, who hunted Horcruxs, died and came back, saved the world. That was Harry, always Harry, and behind him, always, Ron and Hermione. No, it wasn’t for Neville to save wizardkind. Just the wizards and witches in his school. And not save them really, either, so much as look after them, tend them, keep them alright, even as the world around them, the very halls of their home, became anything but."</p><p>Herbologists like to look after things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Herbologist

It wasn’t he who went on an epic journey through the forests of Britain, wasn’t he who robbed Gringotts, who hunted Horcruxs, died and came back, saved the world. That was Harry, always Harry, and behind him, always, Ron and Hermione. No, it wasn’t for Neville to save wizardkind. Just the wizards and witches in his school. And not _save_ them really, either, so much as look after them, tend them, keep them alright, even as the world around them, the very halls of their home, became anything but. 

Harry might concern himself with Voldemort and his soul, and the metaphorical forest of their War—he had to, and Neville was glad he did. But he, the eternal herbologist, wasn’t interested in the forest so much as the individuals it contained. What happened to each of them. He looked after them, tended them. Were they getting enough food and water in the strictly rationed Hogwarts under the Carrows, (the least of whose punishments included denying meals)? Were they getting enough sleep, or were they kept awake with nightmares? Were detentions leaving them scarred, physically or emotionally? And after he found that the Room of Requirement provided sanctuary: Did they need to get away? Did they need a safe place to go?

He became good at knowing how to assist, as well, who and how to ask for help. Of course there was the D.A., other students who would do anything for the students of Hogwarts, or even just because he asked—they trusted him. They all knew the risks, and sometimes they paid, like the time Michael Corner was tortured for hours after trying to free a chained-up eleven-year-old. But they kept answering the call. Sometimes, though, they weren’t enough. And Neville knew how to enlist other supports. No one was suspicious, for instance, when he said after class: _“Professor Flitwick, might I meet with you? I’m having difficulties with the Water-Making Spell,”_ because after all he never was good at spells. And when he implored: _“Professor McGonagall, can I have a moment? I fear I might have been a bit clumsy with my wand and caused a leak in the Common Room,”_ the Carrows didn’t suspect a thing—because everyone knew that Neville Longbottom _was_ quite clumsy. And when he could secure a few short moments alone with his teachers, he’d quickly spout out a list of students that needed help, and why, and when, and where. 

But gradually he became a confidant of those same Professors as well. Sometimes, seemingly against their will, they’d cry in front of him, say that this was all wrong, that they didn’t know how much longer they’d be able to protect the students of Hogwarts, that they weren’t doing a good enough job protecting now. In another life, Neville would have felt awkward, paralyzed with embarrassment, but necessity had taught him confidence. He, though also frightened, would give his Professors’ hands reassuring squeezes, say, _“We know you’re doing all you can to keep us safe”_ and _“Thank you.”_

Once, while assisting Professor Sprout in the Greenhouses (a ruse to enlist aid for a suffering Hufflepuff Second-Year, though the ruse he admittedly minded least), his ageing Professor and mentor told him: “Neville, you _do_ know you’re a godsend to everyone here right now? Students and staff.”

He shrugged, as he delicately helped a particularly flimsy stalk of Fluxweed to stand upright. “I suppose I just like to tend things.” 

It was nearly the same answer he gave, years later, when asked why on Earth he’d teach at Hogwarts when any Herbology lab in the world could use someone as talented as him. He thought both of the plants in the Greenhouses, and the eager minds of both the students and his colleagues who would learn from them, and answered, “Herbologists like to look after things. And there’s simply more to tend to here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!


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